How to Hide your potions from Gryffindors

I actually caught that little beast Wormtail trying to tamper with my potions samples once when I was looking the other direction (Slytherin tip: never look the other direction for any longer than you have to)! I've also caught him looking over my shoulder, trying to figure out how I was modifying my brews. Those prats never quit.

Fortunately, I managed to transfigure an old, discarded tome into a portable kit – both for basic brewing needs, and (most importantly) to store finished samples. Now let's see them try to filch my phials out of my bag – they're out of sight, disguised by a harmless-looking book!

This is, in fact, my own handmade, functional Potions kit. (However, it took a lot longer to make than using mere transfiguration!) Wooden, leather-bound, reinforced, it can withstand plenty of active use. It opens to reveal not one, but two layers of small compartments full of tiny phials. I am now offering several for sale via eBay, but this original is the best – and to carry it is, I'm sorry, such a pimpin' status symbol for serious Snape-o-philes like me. Not to mention great for taking on the road... from Nausea Drops to Instant Bliss, Libido Fervidus to Mortis Rapidum, it's a medical and magical kit in a book.

If a Snape sees his shadow... Feb. 2nd

What they used to call Imbolc (those of us who know the Old Ways still do), people now call Groundhog Day. Ridiculous. So if I, Severus, rather than a groundhog, see my shadow on Feb. 2nd, will there be six more weeks of winter? In the world of Snape, it is always winter. And I... I am the shadow.

Salazar Slytherin walked here.

Upward of a thousand years ago, the home of one of Hogwarts' founders stood here, in the middle of this quiet fen – an idyllic location for a wizard who enjoyed his solitude and the company of Nature's secrets. I stand amidst this peaceful, stark landscape, and there is the perfect balance of sound: enough silence to hear the serpents that once spoke to their Master (though not to hear their language), mixed with occasional birdsong.



Artists would describe it as having "a limited palette". Others would find it outright bleak, even creepy. Plenty of today's dunder-headed youth would call it "dull as sh*t", mainly if they had no cannabis or Firewhisky to share away from adult eyes.

Slytherin Fen is not everyone's idea of a nice place. In winter, especially, the land is asleep, and the colors of the landscape are subdued. Along the banks, suckholes and grass-covered wash-tunnels wait to trap the unwary legs of folks less observant than a keen-eyed Potions Master. But I find it a place of deep serenity, of most precious, welcome peace.

I blend in with the scenery, like merely another broken snag, a black stump, a shadow amid the many shadows of this place, laden as it is already with tree trunks and logs. And when I stand still, not only my body but my spirit merges with the stoic, quiet spirit of the Fen.



Here I can stretch myself upon the bank in the sun, with no students to bother me, no Albus to Floo me with the overly friendly news of a staff meeting, and most of all, no Boy-Who-Lived to vex me. In that rare window of blessed isolation, only the Dark Mark remains as that which can yank me ruthlessly back to my caged life, and it is tied to that part of my brain that is ever, without fail, on alert and dreads the need to take action. But the rest of me, for the most part, is at last able to take its ease.


Even in winter, the Fen yields its secrets to those who seek. Rare potions ingredients lurk beneath the bowing grass, cling to logs, hang on trees, and are usually within reach of a Summoning spell or long fingers: lichens, feathers, wild herbs, frogs, toads, snakes, swamp leeches, mud nippers... The sundry bits find a place in any of several hidden pockets within the folds of black.

This place may appear dead to some, but it is pulsing with life. Even in a moment of silence, the air hums with its presence. At other times, tiny creatures flit past me on their various missions, and the grass rustles briefly. Across a broad waterway, a committee of Red Wing Blackbirds converse brightly – almost too brightly for my tastes – and announce their insistent, metric measurements:

"One-millili-i-i-i-iter!"
"Thirty-one-li-i-i-i-iters!!"

At last, the sun begins to set over Slytherin Fen, tinting the sky with a delicious brew of lemon and peach and melon and cream, soft blue and grey, and finally a rich range of pinks. I take my leave, refreshed – if only somewhat – in body and soul, content... and glad, once again, that I have come.

If today there shall be six more weeks of winter because a Snape saw his shadow in the Fen, then so be it. This day has been worth it.


Happy Imbolc!
Imbolc (or Oimelc, later Candlemas) is one of the original Witches' sabbats in Europe and, especially, the Celtic lands. Its patron Goddess is Brighid, or Bride, later called St. Brigid by some. It is a holiday for celebrating the first returning of the Sun, the new life of spring, as embodied by the light of candles, and the symbology of Brigid as the bringer of flame. At this time of year, the land in the British Isles, especially farther north, is still pretty dead. In ancient times, stored food was running real low by now, and your family would be feeling the strain. Spring was greatly welcomed and anticipated. In the Pacific Northwest, the first, merest stirrings of life can be seen right now – trees with sticky, resinous buds, early blades of grass, velvety pussy willows, and those sweet cherry blossoms.

So what is a "fen"?!?! It's a wetland, a swamp, fed by running streams more than rain (a bog is fed mainly by rain). In the Harry Potter series, sneaky, snake-loving Salazar Slytherin is stated (via the Hat!) as having lived in a fen. In these pictures, "Slytherin Fen" is actually Oaks Bottom Wildlife Refuge, which does rise and fall a bit with the rain, but also has live, slow streams running through it. This summer I had a truly magical experience there, in which a small snake came up to my feet and curled about them briefly before making her way off into the grasses again. And aside from the well-used jogging trail populated by cell-phone wielding dunderheads, yes, it is a place of serenity (all the more reason to nip off to one side, out of sight, and poke around for potions ingredients). Hundreds of birds, muskrats, and plenty of other critters call this home. I try to venture out to this spot on a regular basis... however, I respect its status as a refuge and, in fact, do not kill or take away any critters for potions. I get 'em elsewhere instead.

Bachelor Birthday: my old friend Lucius

"SHUT UP, MALFOY."

I find myself imitating the "Boy Who Lived
To Irritate" on certain occasions as these, spouting the line so often heard during double Gryffindor and Slytherin Potions. But despite suffering the occasional grating comment, what would any ex-Death Eater scum's bachelor party be without my old comrade Lucius. And he thinks I'm a sick bastard.

It's my party and I'll drink (and not bother to shave) if I want to.

Busy lately! Too much going on at the apothecary to have done much posting this month. But I couldn't resist a few photos of Luscious Luc acting stupid at Sev's little b-day revel. Plus one of my favorite fan-art pics from our boys back when – CRAZY DIRTY SCUM DEATH EATER-YOUTH PUNKS!!!

The wine is a real item – a medicinal snake tonic from Vietnam, owned by my friend. The wine actually went down real smooth. The snake, not so much. Then again, I'm used to slimy pickled things. Mmmmm.

Winter Creatures: Happy B-Day Sev! Jan. 9

For once, a surprise present for me – one thoughtful and very brave Slytherin has ventured to try and win my good graces with a birthday gift. He must have asked Dumbledore for the date... Or is, by chance, the boy merely thinking of me? I hold no such illusions. However, it is a worthy attempt – a kit of random yet labeled, rare ingredients from South Africa, one of the most diverse plant communities in the world. And a book with a note: "I hope you find this more entertaining than our pathetic essays next term". Well, well, one of them is actually somewhat perceptive. Attempt accepted.

Late posting! Severus Snape's Jan. 9th birthday was spent in a happy way for me, as I was on vacation with my dad. I celebrated the birthday of this wintry man with a winter celebration! We had lovely clear, frosty, in my opinion perfect winter weather, great for a long walk in a cloak. I aptly passed time with friends in their very large, and dormant, labyrinth herb garden. Few potions ingredients were to be found among the sleeping plants, but it was beautifully peaceful.

Then home for a steaming mug of herbal potion and lava cake. (Okay, so one's good for the body, the other mostly good for the soul!) I didn't get to hang out with any other fans, but hey – then again, Severus isn't too social a fellow, and my relationship with him is personal anyway!

Above, top: Me in the herb garden, liking the stiff, chilly wind.
Above, bottom: Formal winter portrait of me as Snape.

Below, top: Beautiful, austere - winter on Lopez Island, near home.
Below, bottom: A cloaked apprentice searches for rosehips, one of the few fresh ingredients to be had this time of year. In fact, they're best this time of year, after the first frost has increased their medicinal properties!

"...and a 'Bah Humbug'!": Apothecary Christmas

Christmas Eve.

In the silence of the evening, after all those in the congregation have gone home, a lone figure in black blends with the shadows in a corner of the nave, offering secret prayers for one who has long since ceased to witness Christmas in this world...

Happy holidays, Severus.

Yuletide at the Apothecary! Here's our little live tree, with candy canes and a few other ornaments. Beneath the glass table was a mound of presents wrapped in brightly colored tissue paper. Since it was "volunteer appreciation night" as well as our Solstice festival, the presents were gifts to each of us who offer our time there in exchange for knowledge. There was also a potluck feast with the most delicious food – a little something for every taste!

Below is the altar, surrounded by the traditional holly, and special "consecrated" cupcakes as well as the ingredients we used to create holy water for the Solstice: rosemary for purification and protection, and essential oils of every persuasion (the tiny labeled bottles in the lower left).


Bottom: Christmas potions! Two bottles of beautiful, newly extracted St. John's Wort oil, a 4-oz of fragrant holy water and an ancient carven treasure of a snuff bottle (I like to pretend it's either emerald, a relic of Salazar Slytherin, or both!) for any sort of extra-special concoction.

Solstice in the Rose Garden

Wizards and Muggles alike may be preparing to celebrate the holiday, but the land is not – it sleeps and waits, like a hibernating serpent, barren but for the steadfast evergreens and weeds. Fresh, wildcrafted potions ingredients are distinctly difficult to come by, for few plants claim winter as their season.

There are exceptions, of course. One was the Holy Thorn Tree in Glastonbury, England, so recently cut down by those ridiculous vandals (though I have seen worse), which bloomed at Christmas and Easter; even now there is a little tree in the park which has insisted on sprouting fragrant pink buds! In mid-December! Hope is a fool's dream, yet it seems to sprout eternal in certain living beings who all but force the rest of us to recognize it. Lily was one of those beings – she never gave up hope. Even in me. But she was wise to distance herself from me and what I became... or rather try: it wasn't far enough... not far enough away...

And this is the sort of thing she would have done. It is refreshing change from knocking the heads off for once, as I no doubt will this spring when I have had enough of finding stray, disgusting love notes and rose petals on the dungeon floor after every Potions class. But this afternoon, there is only peace in the barren garden, under the soft flannel blanket of a still gray sky... only me and my thoughts of her, and the quiet, determined budding of life in the dark night of the year.


This Solstice, what with a full-moon eclipse, we truly had the "darkest-of-the-dark" we've had in 400-odd years! Such portents of the times! A darkened and/or reddened moon facilitates very powerful tranformative magick for us witches and warlocks. How fitting I should spend it in this Snapey phase of life I'm in (the Sun is also in his sign of Capricorn of course). We were unable to see the eclipse in Portland, due to the cloud cover, but I did at least encapsulate the energy by concocting a blood-red potion for later use. We had a lovely Solstice party and volunteer appreciation night at the Apothecary, with a potluck feast, presents, and a ceremony. I was overjoyed to receive a textbook for a high-rated Masters program in planetary herbology – but then again, I'm simply weird that way.

There really is a small tree in Washington Park that is coming out right now with tiny, sweet-smelling pink flowers. The top photo is Portland's International Rose Test-Garden, as it appears in midwinter... minus one sneaky Slytherin, of course.

Knowledge Exquisite

Tonight was miraculously, mercifully free of staff meetings, exam and assignment grading, detentions, or other equally irksome necessities of a Professor's life. I indulged myself at last, perusing a few old tomes off the top shelf and testing a couple of the formulas, noting some possible improvements. Alas – when will I next have such a pleasure? I know not.

Above: photo of my formula log. All potion notes and recipes typically wind up in here.

I've recently finished my first main module of study for my medicinal herbal apprenticeship! Very proud. I don't have nearly as strict a taskmaster as Snape, of course – in fact, we are to complete projects on our own time. However, I love the subject so much that I put a great deal of effort into the work, without being urged by another. And the references! The source books I find, from which to include juicy extra tidbits... the dear herbals, from Matteson (1847), to Green (2004)... The Master herbalist told me she couldn't wait to read it. I hope I've done well by her. "Let me know what I can do better," I pointed out, "since this is my first one!"























One of the things I absolutely, bar none, hated about Book 7 was the burning of the Room of Requirement. All those books! All that knowledge, lost! The findings of centuries, up in smoke! Including, we must presume, the experimental discoveries of the Half-Blood Prince. I am reminded far too much of the burning of the library of Alexandria, a travesty in an age when all manuscripts had to be copied by hand. Ack!!! How I cringe to think of it. That sentiment alone, for the sacredness of knowledge, especially esoteric, must surely slap me as either a Ravenclaw or a Slytherin. Due to my fondness for Snape and tendency to consider the "Gray" possibilities (I avoid outright Black if possible), I tend to angle toward Slytherin.